Riding on Dragons
by copperflame
Summary: Set about two years after Talking to Dragons... Behold the Quest for the Royal Stick! This story's from the POV of a cat, and I'll warn you now, if brainless princes and lavender fairies terrify you, you may not want to read it. Enjoy!
1. In Which the Plot Begins

A/N-First off, Patricia C. Wrede rocks!

Second, I've tried to stay true to the style of the Enchanted Forest series and the characters' personalities; my wish is that if Wrede were to read this, she'd have no cause to eat me alive.

Lastly, I'd appreciate it if you would act in persona Wrede and eat me alive if anything is wrong. Thanks.

**New note:** I have been going through and making small changes, mostly in little things like grammar, but occasionally something larger to either facilitate the later parts of the story or comply with a suggested improvement on the part of my reviewers.

1. In Which the Plot Begins

It wasn't my fault I started to talk. It was Telemain's, the dratted magician! What was he thinking, I'd like to know, setting out a tuna-scented concoction and expecting nine cats to stay away from it? Here I was, minding my own business, sleeping on the windowsill, when what should I smell but tuna. And quality tuna, too, by the scent of it. Normally it's Fiddlesticks who goes crazy over fish, but even I can't pass up good tuna.

So I glanced quickly around, just to make sure no one was watching, and I leapt onto the table, where the delicious odor was coming from.

Well, there it was. It didn't look much, to be sure—a little gooey and, well, _blue_. But my nose had never led me wrong yet. Maybe it was a Northern Blue Belly. A little taste couldn't hurt...

Next thing I knew I was on the floor hacking. Only it wasn't a hair ball that came up. It was a word. A human word.

Well, you can imagine the way the other cats laughed. Aunt Ophelia speaks _human!_ That went all around the forest twice. No respectable cat would get herself into such a mess.

Of course Morwen and Telemain tried to help, but they didn't get very far. It appeared the experiment sitting on the kitchen table was a new one of Telemain's, so he didn't know exactly how it worked, much less how to reverse it.

So here I was stuck with as detestable a curse as any that have befallen creatures in the forest.

--

That was my situation; here's the story.

I was lounging out on the wide porch soaking in the sun and keeping my mouth shut when two people appeared in front of me. I don't mean they walked up to the door and seemed to appear only because of the thick foliage of the Forest. I mean they appeared. It seemed Daystar was finally getting the hang of that transportation spell the Kings of the Enchanted Forest could use.

Of course that means one of the people was Daystar, the eighteen-year-old prince, but I had never seen the other guy before. He was young, too, but he had fair hair and was quite a bit shorter than Daystar. Then I noticed the thin circlet around his head. Oh no, a prince.

A typical prince, that is. Daystar's a prince, of course, but he's not typical, just like his mother wasn't a typical princess. Typical princes are the silliest, most bird-brained fools you will ever see. Besides heroes. If there's anything worse than a prince it's a hero.

Daystar looked unusually worried. His forehead was creased and his voice had an uneasy edge to it.

"Good morning, Ophelia. I really need to speak with Telemain; do you know where he is?" That's one reason I like Daystar; he always notices us cats, unlike most people, who either forget we're there or think we can't understand them.

"In his tower, as usual. Probably concocting another cat-threatening mess. You can go in," I replied.

"The cat can talk?" the prince asked incredulously.

"Yes, well, there was a bit of an accident, and now Aunt Ophelia can speak human. All cats can talk, but we just can't understand them." Thank you Daystar, I thought, for skipping over the eating part. But judging from the look on the stranger's face he was still very puzzled.

The pair walked into the house and I casually followed, pretending I wasn't the least bit interested in the proceedings. Daystar knocked on one of the two doors exiting from the main room and we heard Telemain's preoccupied voice shouting at us to come in. We entered a round room, bare except for two iron staircases spiraling up to the top of the tower and a wooden table on the far side where Telemain sat, apparently studying some oddity found in the Forest.

The fair-haired prince looked around and whispered to Daystar, "I don't get it; I didn't see this from outside."

"It's a magic door. It can lead to several rooms without taking up any extra space, though this tower's substantial enough that it occupies a whole door. The other one you saw leads to eight different rooms and the backyard," I informed him.

"Oh, right..."

Telemain finally looked up from his work. "Daystar, what brings you here? How are you doing on the transportation spell? If there's one thing I wish I could do, it's that."

"I'm getting better, thanks, though it still occasionally takes a couple tries. But that's not why I'm here. You remember I told you about how the Forest is acting strangely up north? The trees were doing odd things like moving in plain sight and growing younger instead of older."

"Yes, I recall you mentioning that a couple months ago. In fact, this leaf I was examining came from one of the trees subject to reversal growth. But I'm afraid I can't detect any enchantment that could produce such a reaction."

"The...strangeness has spread further south since then. I couldn't figure out why either until I met Prince Olemer," Daystar gestured to the prince, who hesitantly came forward. "After hearing his story I think I know who's causing the trouble. Again."

"Again?....you mean _wizards?_"


	2. In Which the Plot is Explained

2. In Which the Plot is Explained and There Is a Long Discussion

"It certainly seems so," Daystar answered Telemain's exclamation.

"Is that who those guys were?" the prince--Olemer--asked to no one in particular. I certainly didn't bother to answer.

I heard Morwen come in behind us. "Did I hear something about wizards?" and everyone, except of course me, jumped, not having heard her approach.

"Daystar says the wizards are responsible for the abnormal phenomena occurring in the northern reaches of the Forest. And yet we haven't observed any zones of magical drainage, which the spell enacted on the focus should prevent regardless."

"That's why I came to you; I hoped you could explain this. You see, the northern border has always moved around a lot--more than the other borders. From something Olemer overheard the wizards saying, it sounds as if some magic is being left behind every time the border moves."

Overheard indeed. I bet the wizards knew he could hear them; they just assumed he wouldn't understand.

"What did you overhear?" Morwen put in.

"I don't remember word-for-word...something about leftover magic at the boundary they could use, or maybe it was odor-leaving magic as a ruse..." Olemer's voice trailed off uncertainly.

And the wizards were right.

Telemain spoke again, "It sounds to me as if the locational transition of the Forest's termination has abandoned residual substance beyond the current boundaries, and the wizards are collecting it, thus preventing it from returning to its former territory."

I rolled my eyes, Daystar said, "Uuuuhhh..." and Olemer just stared blankly. Morwen kindly translated for us.

"What he means is that the border moves north, and when it comes back south, it leaves some magic behind, which the wizards suck up. But once it's in their staffs it can't get back to the Forest. That's why the Forest has been acting strangely--it's running out of magic."

"Shouldn't the Sword prevent that?" I asked, trying not to sound too interested in the answer.

"Not once the magic is outside the Forest. Then it's not exactly part of the Forest and the Sword can't protect it."

"Exactly," agreed Telemain. "So we'll have to install an additional enchantment securing the border from further substance leakage, which will require the permission of the northern ruler. The spell will entail certain binding charms on his side of the border. I suggest we speak to him immediately."

"That might be difficult," Daystar warned.

"Why?" an unusually short comment on Telemain's part.

"Because my father's dead and the wizards are in control." That was from Olemer.

"It just gets better," I muttered.

Fiddlesticks poked his head through the doorway. "What gets better?"

"Listen and find out, birdbrain." Olemer looked at me quizzically.

"I was speaking to Fiddlesticks," I explained. "Please continue."

"Well, I was supposed to be crowned two days after my father's funeral, but the wizards came to the ceremony and said they had an objection. They said I couldn't be king because I didn't have the Royal Stick."

"The Royal _Stick_?" Fiddlesticks and I asked simultaneously, but of course no one noticed him. Not so lucky me. Dratted tuna potion! You'd think it would be Fiddlesticks in this mess!

Anyway, the prince looked offended and said, "Yes. It's supposed to show if you're really royalty or not, but it's been lost for over a century."

"So they challenged _your_ claim to the throne when your father and grandfather and so on didn't have it either? And your people agree with this?" Morwen used her most disapproving voice.

"They said there was no proof that any of my family was royalty and that the kingdom might have been ruled by usurpers for a century. 'Our regrets,' they said, 'that we hadn't heard of this earlier. We could have saved you from years of deceit.' So now I've lost my father's kingdom and I have no idea where to find the Royal Stick. I've been searching for three months already." He sounded so truly despondent that I actually felt sorry for him.

Daystar spoke up again. "Telemain, could you set up the spell without permission? That way there would be no reason for the wizards to keep Olemer's kingdom and he could get it back."

"I don't think so. It's an extremely complex charm and would take a length of time, maybe a month. And even if we settled for a partial binding until Olemer regains the throne, the people are suspicious now. The truth is, he might not succeed in regaining his rightful place without the Royal Stick, and then the partial binding would decompose, leaving us no better off than before."

"So let's get the Royal Stick." Everyone turned to stare at me.

"You know, you're right," Morwen agreed. "It's the simplest solution, which is usually the best."

And that is how I got myself involved in the quest for the Royal...Stick. Yeah.


	3. In Which Someone Longexpected Arrives

3. In Which Someone Long-expected Arrives and We Begin Our Search

We finally emerged back into the bright sunlight after discussing further plans, such as where we should look and who should go. It was decided that we would proceed west from Olemer's kingdom since that was supposedly where his ancestor sent some warrior or other to hide the Royal Stick during some war or other to protect it from some evil guy or other...

As for who was to go, Daystar immediately volunteered, and Olemer had to go, it being his responsibility. I'm afraid I got dragged into it too. A cat would be so useful, we could use your talent, it was your idea...and so on. Both Morwen and Telemain wanted to go, but the other cats insisted someone stay home to feed them (and I would agree in their place. Leaving cats alone for too long is a dreadful crime), so it was decided that Telemain should stay behind and do what he could to slow the degeneration of the Forest.

We would set out the next day, so Daystar was about to take Olemer back to the castle with him. As he left the house Olemer peered around the corner to where the tower would have been if it wasn't a magic door. Try getting anything through that thick skull. I always thought it was a good idea of Morwen's to make a door to Telemain's tower. It was bad enough she had to marry him and it would have been unbearable for her to abandon the grey house.

Anyway, just as Daystar raised his hand to use the transportation spell, a huge green dragon landed in front of the house. Kazul, to be exact, finally home from her diplomatic trip down south. And who should be on her back but Shiara. I thought only cats got to ride dragons!

"Shiara!" Daystar shouted. "You're back!"

Kazul had been gone for almost a year, leaving shortly after Shiara's politeness curse had been fixed and taking Shiara, who was her princess after all.

"We were heading to the castle when we saw you here and decided to land." Shiara seemed different; a bit taller and prettier, and there was a wide smile on her face.

"You came back just in time. We're leaving tomorrow on a quest and I'd be so happy if you came." She looked flattered. "We'll probably be running into wizards and with your magic working now we could really use you."

Her smile vanished. "I should have known! You think I'm _useful_, that's all! Some welcome I get!" I take it back; she was exactly the same as ever.

"No, that's not what I meant--"

"Well I AM coming whether you actually like my company or not!" And she stormed into the house to say hello to Morwen and Telemain, one last protest from Daystar drifting after her, "But I do like your company!"

I had watched the whole scene from the porch, blinking slowly. I had to feel sorry for Daystar. He may be polite, but he needs help with tact.

He started after her, but I warned him, "Maybe you should let her cool down first. She's likely to take anything you say personally in this mood."

He sighed, but turned to Olemer to say they were going. I saw them disappear, or rather didn't see...you get the idea.

--

The sun rose bright on the dewy morning, and we gathered at the castle to begin the quest. Shiara was still decidedly uncivil towards Daystar, which surprised me since her temper was usually as quick to cool as it was to flare up.

Kazul had decided to accompany us. Cimorene asked, "You've already been away from the king's cave for a while; are you sure you shouldn't go back right away?"

"If the dragons up here have lasted this long I think they can last a bit more. Besides, I have to keep an eye on my new princess." An extremely knowing look passed between the King of the Dragons and her former princess.

Cimorene decided not to join the expedition. "My natural taste for adventure has been rather dampened after what happened last time—at least for now. I've been separated from Mendanbar enough to last me a long while, and he has his responsibilities here. You'll just have to give us a full account when you get back!"

Telemain, Fiddlesticks, and Scorn were there to see us off. The magician looked grumpy that he was being left behind with the cats. Scorn, on the other hand, said she was glad she wasn't being dragged on another trip. She had gone with Morwen, Telemain, and Cimorene to find the Sword of the Enchanted Forest eighteen years ago, and yes, witches' cats do live a long time--usually as long as their witch. Anyway, what with the Smoking Swamp and the six-foot blue flying donkey/rabbit she'd had enough adventures. She was so encouraging and morale-strengthening; enough to make me run back home and hide under the bed if I'd been a dog and not a spiky-furred, twenty-three year old tortoiseshell cat. I think she was exaggerating anyway.

Fiddlesticks didn't say much of anything and I figured at the time that he just came for the fish and cream in the kitchen.

It took us long enough, but eventually, after distributing weapons and a couple bottomless provision sacks, we were on the road north—not that there is a road, you understand, but—oh, never mind.

I'm normally not an impatient cat of course, but I'll admit my nerves were sufficiently rattled by some stories of Olemer's about northern terrors that I wanted to get the trip over with. If there's anything worse than danger it's waiting for it.

Obviously I got my customary place on Kazul's back (it's not every cat who's privileged enough to ride on the King of the Dragons) and the humans walked beside us into the depths of the Enchanted Forest...the dark, deep depths...


	4. In Which We Meet Someone Small

A/N-Thanks so much for the reviews; you give me confidence!

4. In Which Shiara and Daystar Are Mad at Each Other

and We Meet Someone Small

The first leg of our journey passed uneventfully. We stopped in a sunny clearing for lunch—those bottomless sacks produce some pretty decent food—during which Shiara continued to ignore Daystar. Instead, she paid a surprising amount of attention to Olemer, of all people. I guessed she was trying to make Daystar feel bad, and she seemed to be succeeding. He kept trying to start speaking to her (probably an apology) but she would cut him off with comments to the other prince.

Olemer looked quite pleased with the attention and didn't hesitate to enumerate his many daring deeds and describe the monsters he'd killed. I wondered why he couldn't just set off on his own and brave the millions of dangers to find the Royal Stick if he could kill three nightshades with one hand behind his back and so on...

It's a wonder Shiara could tolerate all that nonsense; she must have been really mad at Daystar. I still didn't understand what made this argument last so much longer than the others they'd had, when she would accept his apology within five minutes.

"So what is it we're looking for again? The royal scepter?"

"No, the Royal Stick."

I glanced at Shiara through slitted eyes just quickly enough to see her barely suppress a laugh. But Olemer was completely oblivious, caught up in his tale.

"You see, it was an heirloom of the royal family, passed down from generation to generation and used to see if the supposed heir to the throne really belonged there. No one these days is exactly sure how it worked, but we know that about a century ago, during the war against the evil King Batro, it was hidden to keep it from his clutches..."

Shiara's attention was wandering. Olemer kept going on. And on. And on...

"And then we must make our way through the Pass of Doom guarded by the—"

"I thought you said you didn't know where to search," I pointed out.

"Well, you see..."

"Yes?" I prompted.

"The thing is, I know where we should go, I just don't know how to get to the where. You know?"

"Actually I don't."

"The legends say the hero Janar traveled through the Caves of Terror, across the Lake of Catastrophe, and through the Pass of Doom, but I don't know where any of those places are."

"Wow, those sound like a lot of dangerous places. Will there be fish?"

"_Fiddlesticks?!_" I exclaimed. Everyone looked at me. I wondered why I hadn't smelled him long ago, but the Forest can do strange things like that.

"I heard Scorn talking about all the fun she had on her adventure, so I wanted to come along."

"Fun indeed," I muttered. Only Fiddlesticks could be so confused.

"Now that you've joined us you might as well stay," Morwen told him.

"Thank you," he purred, then added questioningly, "Will there be fish?"

"I'm not sure, but if we find any I'll let you know."

Olemer wore a peeved expression at being interrupted. "As I was saying, the Pass of Doom is guarded by the Deadly Demon…"

"These Northerners are certainly very imaginative," Shiara whispered sarcastically out of the side of her mouth to the nearest person, who happened to be Daystar. He was about to reply when the fire witch realized who she had spoken to and abruptly turned her back, pretending she hadn't said a word.

"Ooooohhh, you _are_ in trouble!"

Daystar jumped about five feet, which is quite a big jump for a human, and spun around to find the source of the voice emanating from just behind his left ear.

A lavender fairy hovered there, batting her long lavender eyelashes and fluttering her sparkly lavender wings. Her silky lavender hair flowed down her back and she wore a gauzy little gown--lavender--that fit her three-inch lavender body perfectly. I wondered if she tasted as good as the butterflies she so greatly resembled. Except for the wings; wings are always too papery.

Fiddlesticks seemed to have the same thought; he stared at the fairy appraisingly and licked his mouth (cats don't exactly have lips).

The fairy didn't notice either of us, being too preoccupied with Daystar to see anyone else.

"You must be on a _very_ dangerous journey!"

"Absolutely!" Olemer hastened to agree with the fairy, who remained totally oblivious to him.

"But I'm sure _you_ will be able to handle anything!" she said, again addressing Daystar.

That time Olemer just nodded, obviously quite smitten with the little thing.

I couldn't quite figure out Daystar's reaction to all this; his expression read something between confusion and disgust. But when the fairy casually asked, "Do you suppose I could join you?" instead of the firm refusal I expected, Daystar first glanced at Shiara, who was obstinately ignoring the proceedings, though sparks erupted from the ends of her hair. Then he hardened his expression and said, "You're quite welcome to come."

I glanced around and caught Kazul's and Morwen's worried looks and the two big flaming tears that ran down Shiara's cheeks.


	5. In Which the Path Is Blocked

qwen-Because only Fiddlesticks would be so idiotic as to _want_ to come on the trip. As for the fairy, well...

5. In Which the Path Is Blocked

The trek northward continued accompanied by the Butterfly's--fairy's, that is--constant mindless chatter.

"My name is Fylena Mirandel Illyren Nerissa," she introduced herself dramatically, "but you can call me Tyra." This was of course to Daystar, who appeared not to understand it any better than I. If she expected the rest of us to call her Fylena Mirandel Illyren Nerissa, she was dead wrong.

So I casually warned her, "Hey Butterfly! You chose to come with us, so I'll tell you now, just for future reference, you will do as you're told and make yourself useful. One sparkly lavender toe out of line and, well..." I finished by grinning at her and displaying my many sharp teeth. I saw Kazul do the same just below me, which under other circumstances would have gotten me annoyed, her array of pearly whites being slightly more impressive than mine. In this case though, I admit I was quite satisfied with the flicker of uneasiness in little Glitter's face.

She waved us off with a falsely cheery, "Oh, you won't need to worry about that," but afterwards she stayed on the opposite side of Daystar from Kazul and me.

It went on like this for about half an hour, at which point Morwen abruptly cut off Tyra's stream of chatter and asked Daystar with barely concealed annoyance, "Couldn't you use your transportation spell and get us to the edge of the Forest? I wish I had thought to ask earlier," she finished with a pointed look at the fairy.

"I thought of it, but I'm not sure it's safe. I've only ever tried it with one other person, so I don't know what would happen with seven."

"Well, couldn't you make a couple transports? And only do two or three people at a time?" Shiara demanded. I think she was suffering the worst and she couldn't even let out her frustration by talking to Olemer; he had ears only for the flying shrimp.

"I suppose I could try; if it's safe to split up. If something goes wrong and we transport to different places it could be dangerous to say the least."

"Anything's better than this," she answered, not trying to lower her voice and rewarding herself with a dirty look from the fairy's perfect face. At the time I heartily agreed with Shiara.

During this conversation we had continued walking and now came upon a creek winding between the great trees and tumbling noisily over moss-covered rocks.

We were about to cross it, I being safely ensconced upon Kazul's back of course, when a challenge rang out from the opposite bank. It was only then that I noticed the dark form in the shadows. I was amazed; that was twice in one day my senses had failed me. Must have been the bad allergies: stuffy nose and watery eyes. Must have been...

"Thou shalt not pass!"

"Oh really?" Kazul growled dangerously to the knight. "And who's going to prevent us?"

"I, Guardian of the Crystal Stream, shall fight any who dare cross here."

"Maybe we should just cross somewhere else," I suggested lazily to Daystar. Not that we couldn't handle the guy; I figured Daystar could beat him, if not with a sword at least by magic, and there was always Kazul as backup if the knight were really tough. It just didn't seem worth the effort. I yawned.

But the prince of the Enchanted Forest had other ideas.

"Who said you could guard the stream? You weren't here last week."

The knight mumbled something about, "Off duty..." Morwen turned her eyes up as if asking for patience.

Daystar continued, "You can willingly report yourself to my father for hindering pedestrians and save yourself a lot of trouble, or you can make me force you to go to the castle. It's your choice."

If the knight hadn't had his visor down I would have seen his eyes shift to each member of our party, perhaps weighing his chances. I don't know what he was thinking, or maybe he wasn't (knights are notorious for their lack of minds), but he replied, "I am the guardian of the Crystal Stream. Thou shalt not pass--"

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Morwen interjected and Daystar started forward, sword drawn, through the shallow creek.

As soon as he set foot on the far bank the knight charged him, sword drawn and pointing straight at Daystar. Daystar effortlessly dodged the all-out attack and the knight went splashing past him into the creek while the rest of us looked on. If he couldn't beat one person with a sword how did he expect to defeat eight with various weapons, teeth, claws, and magic?

He came back onto shore next to the waiting prince. His next attack was a blow to the head which Daystar parried, counterattacking with his own head-blow--using the hilt of his sword. The knight crumpled completely unconscious to the ground, his armor clattering against the rocks.

At this point the Butterfly started gushing--and I mean _gushing_--with praise for Daystar's strength, for his style...ugh. He ignored her and asked Morwen for some paper and a pen, which items she produced from her sleeves, and he wrote a note to the king about the knight. This he fastened to the unconscious knight's armor; finally he transported the whole thing to the castle with a twist of his hand.

"I see you've gotten accustomed to your position as Prince of the Enchanted Forest quite well," Kazul mentioned. Daystar answered with a grin, "I suppose I have."

"Now could you use your spell, since you're obviously so good at it?" asked Shiara impatiently.

"All right, who's first?"

Morwen and Shiara volunteered, and Daystar told them, "I'm sending you to a clearing just inside the northern border; wait there until everyone arrives."

"Of course," Morwen replied.

And they disappeared with another twist of his hand.

Kazul was sent alone, and Fiddlesticks and I were both sent with Olemer. Daystar would bring up the rear with Tyra, who refused to part with him.

When it was our turn everything seemed to be going smoothly--until we arrived where we were not supposed to. No clearing, no border, and no other people. Just trees farther than even my eyes could reach and the ever-present carpet of moss...


	6. In Which We Try to Become Unlost

qwen-Fiddlesticks isn't that annoying; just rather immature and...bird-brained if one can say that about a cat.

6. In Which an Effort Is Made to Become Un-lost

The three of us looked around. And at each other. It figures I'd have to be stuck with Fiddlesticks and Olemer when trouble hits. Though the fact that I wasn't stuck with Glitter was reassuring. Almost.

"I don't see the clearing," Fiddlesticks mentioned.

"That's because it's not here," I informed him. "So what do we do now?"

Olemer looked at me blankly and Fiddlesticks was already occupied in stalking a large beetle. It seemed time to take matters into my own hands. Paws.

All right then. "Fiddlesticks!" I shouted, calling his attention back from the beetle, which escaped on shiny blue wings.

"What?" he asked sulkily.

"This is no time for beetle hunts. You and I will scout around the area to see if we can smell the others while Olemer can climb a tree to look for the others, or at least figure out what direction's what. Cats are of course famous for their climbing abilities," I added to the prince, "but I can't say I relish the idea of coming back down."

And so he began his climb up a large pine as Fiddlesticks and I sniffed around, not straying too far for fear we would become separated from Olemer. If we were anywhere but the Forest that wouldn't be a problem, but the Forest shifts, and as soon as someone or some tree is out of sight you may not be able to find it again.

It was a rather humiliating task, really, and feeling quite like a hound (Fiddlesticks most likely didn't notice or care) I was eager to get the job over with. I would never have done such a thing if the situation were any less dangerous.

The two of us had almost covered the area within sight of the tree Olemer was climbing when I caught a distinctive scent. Hot metal, cinders, ash, smoke...fire. I looked up and who should I see standing there but a fire-witch. Not Shiara, but obviously a fire-witch because of his orange hair and the scent of fire that accompanied him.

"Hello," I said questioningly.

He raised his eyebrows. "Since when could I hear other people's cats talk?"

"It's a long story, but the bottom line is that everyone can hear me talk." I decided I trusted him since fire-witches and wizards never get along. "You wouldn't have happened to see a dragon, a witch, a prince, a fairy, or another fire-witch anywhere would you? Or any limbs belonging to them?" I added half under my breath. After all, when transportations go wrong bad things can happen. Like someone being half transported. Not that I thought Daystar would mess up that badly. I started licking my left paw while I waited for his answer.

"I can't say that I have. Wait, there was a fairy here a couple days ago..."

"I rather meant today."

"I'm afraid not then. What brings two cats to this part of the Forest?" It was then that I noticed Fiddlesticks crouched beside me.

"Well, I don't see that it's any of your business--" I cut off at the flames licking the ends of his hair. "Not that I don't trust you of course," I added hurriedly. He raised one eyebrow.

"You might as well tell him. Fire-witches hate wizards and he looks familiar." Now that Fiddlesticks mentioned it, the man did look familiar. It had been years, but I remembered him from when Morwen came back from the journey to find the Sword...

"You're Brandel, aren't you?" He was obviously surprised I knew him.

"Yes. Who are you? And as I asked before, what are you doing here? You're standing on my front lawn." No matter how hard I looked I could not see a house. But that could be figured out later. Introductions seemed in order since I was now certain I could trust him. I like to make sure of those things. Strangers can be...unpleasant.

"I'm Aunt Ophelia and this is Fiddlesticks. We're Morwen's cats." Just then my ears twitched backward to the sound of someone crashing. As my head followed I saw Olemer picking himself up from the ground below the tree he had climbed.

Sighing, I added, "And that's Prince Olemer. As for our purpose, we got transported to the wrong place and we've lost everyone else."

Olemer came up to us gasping out, "That way's north!" Then he caught sight of Brandel. "Who are you?"

Brandel stared at him as if his head was on backwards, and I judged it best to speak for him and save him the indignity of addressing Olemer.

"This is Brandel, a fire-witch."

"Like Shiara?"

"Exactly. He helped recover the king's Sword."

"Oh. Can he help us?"

"That depends entirely on what you expect me to do to assist you," Brandel answered haughtily. I remembered Scorn telling me about Brandel's aversion to princes and heroes due to their incessant plaguing of him while he lived in the Smoking Swamp. They were under the mistaken impression that his sister lived in his tower, and so on.

"For now all we need to do is find the other members of our quest. I'd guess Kazul will be the easiest since she can fly and might find us. Did you see any of them while you were in the tree?" I asked the prince.

"No."

"I hope they're all in one piece. Now where is the clearing we were supposed to land in?" I asked of no one in particular. "Brandel, do you know of a clearing on the northern border?"

"I don't know much of the north, and I suspect there's more than one clearing on the border. And if we're going to discuss things we might as well talk in my house; it's more comfortable." He turned around and started walking, to the west assuming Olemer was right about north, and I began to follow when I heard a whooshing sound behind me and Olemer saying, "Oh, I forgot to mention that..."

When I spun around I caught a glimpse of a large feathered shape speeding toward the four of us. A fireball from Brandel shot toward the flying creature but missed by inches, and the thing sped closer...


	7. In Which We Almost Die

7. In Which We Almost Die and Someone...Well, You'll See

I stared in horror as the white shape grew larger and larger as it came closer and closer. Before long it was so huge it blocked out the sky, at which point my instincts kicked in and I scrambled for cover. I spotted a prickly bush at the foot of the nearest tree and shot towards it, lightning quick as all cats are.

But just as I dashed under the bush, only my tail still in view, I heard a screech. Thinking it had me, I whirled around to scratch, bite, and do anything to defend myself when I saw it wasn't there at all. I turned my gaze up and saw the monster caught in the branches of the tall trees, its wings having been too wide to fit past them.

White feathers the size of a person fluttered--well, feathers that big don't exactly flutter--but they were everywhere; one knocked Olemer off his feet. But at least we were safe from the snapping beak and sharp talons of the bird.

Brandel and Olemer both began creeping toward the monstrous creature; it watched them with golden eyes, the pupils alone as wide as a dinner platter, forget the plate. The bird screeched again and struggled vainly to free itself from the trees' clutches. I stayed by the bush, seeing no reason to risk my life in the pointless approach toward a feathered menace. Sure, it was trapped, but how long would that last?

Brandel had gotten near enough to reach out and touch its scaly leg. Bad idea. He ducked quickly to avoid having his head taken off by four deadly talons. The fire-witch wisely retreated to just beyond their reach.

"What is it?" I demanded of Brandel, but was surprised when Olemer answered, "It's a roc." I was amazed to find that he knew something useful.

Apparently he noticed my startled expression because he added haughtily, "All princes are trained on the types of monsters and how to fight them." I should have known. Damsels in distress and all that.

"In that case, what should we do with the roc, _Prince?_" Brandel challenged.

"Well...uhhh...well you see, rocs are usually only found far in the south, so they really didn't go into much detail--"

"Why am I not surprised!" I exclaimed, once again lamenting being stranded with Olemer, of all possible people.

Brandel smirked, Olemer's reply confirming all his expectations. "I have a trick or two up my sleeve I can use on the roc. We could kill it, but it might come in handy...give me a minute free of distraction, will you."

"Of course."

Sparks erupted from Brandel's fingers and began to twine themselves into long strands which in turn twisted around each other to form a long orange rope giving off a fiery glow. I imagined what it would look like at night.

When Olemer first saw the rope begin to come together he opened his mouth to comment but was silenced by one of my best glares. I'd seen the concentration in Brandel's face and didn't give a dead leaf for the prince's safety if he interrupted the enchantment. Though Olemer was a nuisance, he was essential to defeating the wizards.

The flaming cord wound itself around the distressed roc's wings and legs, firmly binding it and making me feel much better.

"Now that's done we can go inside." We followed Brandel to the gnarled roots of a large tree. Inside what? The tree was big, but not that big. Then the fire-witch spoke a word under his breath; it sounded something like Spitzrif, and the ground disappeared.

We plunged into earth-smelling blackness and hit something hard; the ground, I supposed, though I thought that had disappeared. Then blazing light burst from the walls, or rather torches on the walls, as I was able to see when my head stopped spinning enough to look.

We had fallen into a large earthy cavern hollowed out underneath the tree (I could tell from the roots all around the walls and digging into my stomach). The floor was paved in flat grey stones and the torches hung from iron brackets attached to the twisting roots. A few shafts of sunlight slanted in through narrow apertures near the roof framed by carved wooden shutters. On the back wall of the cavern were two arched doors, also made of carved wood. The room was cluttered with papers and little odds and ends stacked carelessly on shelves, though in some places the mess had been neatly organized into piles, as if someone had started cleaning but gave up part-way through.

"Welcome to my home," Brandel announced grandly. "After my bad luck in that tower I decided to try the opposite--underground."

"Do you always get in that way?" I asked.

"I've gotten used to it over the years; it takes time but you eventually learn to land on your feet."

"I did land on my feet; cats always do," I informed him as I began licking my paw and cleaning my face.

"Oh, right. Well, sometimes I use the back door; it's easier but farther away. So what's this quest of yours? You said Morwen's your witch? And you're with Kazul? Or were, anyway. Oh, have a seat," he added when he noticed we were still in a heap by the...doorway, if you could call it that.

Olemer picked himself up and followed me over to the roughhewn wooden table in the middle of the cavern. A black and white cat lay sprawled across the surface.

"Off the table, Julius."

The cat opened one eye and asked, "Why?"

"Because we have things to discuss and you're in the way."

Julius took his time, but eventually dropped onto the floor and sauntered over to a cushioned chair, waving his tail at Brandel to show he was only moving because it suited him.

"Now, down to—Don't touch that!" Brandel snapped. I turned to see Olemer sticking his nose perilously close to a tall glass vase perched on one of the shelves. He jerked back guiltily at the reprimand and cowered under the fire-witch's glare.

"Well, sit down then. If you think you can avoid breaking the table."

The prince took a seat as far from Brandel as he could, and I started explaining the situation.

"We're on a quest for the Royal Stick," Brandel raised his eyebrows, "and there were eight of us, Prince Daystar, Prince Olemer, Kazul, her princess Shiara, Morwen, Fiddlesticks, a fairy, and me. We set out because—"

"The wizards took my throne," Olemer interrupted, "and we need the Royal Stick to get it back."

"Yes. And the wizards are sucking up leftover magic up north, which is what started all the trouble in the first place." Brandel looked confused, which I guess wasn't surprising; I was having trouble explaining in order. So I started from the beginning, telling everything that had happened since Daystar came to the grey house to talk to Telemain; I struggled along through several interruptions from Olemer, telling of his negligible part in the tale.

But when I came to the part where Fiddlesticks joined us I realized something. It had been far too long since I'd heard the other cat's random interjections. I broke off when I saw he wasn't at the table.

"Where's Fiddlesticks?"

"I haven't seen him in a while," was Olemer's reply.

"Blast! Just what we need, another person gone missing!"

"Maybe he's still up above," Brandel suggested. So I dashed over to the entrance and jumped through the open trapdoor, and missed. It was just too high, and I slid miserably back down the earthen wall. "How exactly do we get out?"

Instead of answering, Brandel walked straight over to a ladder of roots that I had missed because it was in the shadows. He and Olemer climbed out and I followed as best I could, since ladders were not made for paws.

"Why didn't we use that going down?" Olemer asked.

"Because you have to be standing on the door for the keyword to work, and I don't know if you've ever tried, but it's rather difficult trying to catch the rungs of a ladder while you're falling."

"Oh. I've never tried that."

Well, we were up above. There was the roc off to the left and trees everywhere else. No Fiddlesticks. What did you expect?


	8. In Which We Observe Some Strange Trees

8. In Which We Observe Some Strange Trees and Travel by Flight

It's not easy to track a cat. It's especially difficult in a forest with an unbroken carpet of moss--and Enchanted Forest moss won't keep a full-grown human's footprint, much less a cat's--and such a rapid growth rate that even smells find it hard to stick.

I caught a whiff of a Fiddlesticks scent just north of Brandel's house, but I couldn't find anything past that; as I said previously, I am not a hound.

Sure, we called his name. Sure, we looked for his nonexistent footprints. Suffice to say, in vain. The options were to either wait for him or to go on, trusting he'd be okay. I myself was in no hurry to continue our trek toward the dangerous unknown when there was a perfectly good, cozy, and safe house-cavern-thing at our disposal.

That was when Olemer spotted something that changed my mind.

"What's wrong with that tree?"

Brandel and I turned to see where he was pointing, and I must say that before us was one of the more extraordinary things I have ever beheld.

One of the massive trees surrounding us was shrinking, or more specifically, becoming younger very quickly. As the trunk thinned the broad leaves shrank into buds, finally disappearing within the bark. Just as quickly, the tree diminished in height, changing from a giant of a hundred feet to a sprout just out of the ground, then vanishing completely into the mossy earth.

Obviously this was what Daystar had been talking about to Telemain when the quest was first decided upon.

In the gloomy distance I glimpsed an uprooted tree creeping across the ground on twisted roots, and I came to a quick decision.

"We've got to move on," I said. "The Forest must be losing magic very fast if the plague's spread all the way here."

"What about Fiddlesticks?" Olemer inquired.

"He can take care of himself; he's lived in the Forest his whole life. And besides, he's a cat," I added with a slightly arrogant smile.

"I believe I'll join you," Brandel said, then added in a lower voice, "Even a quest for a Royal Stick has got to be better than dying of boredom." Since this comment seemed to be directed to himself I refrained from inquiring further into his meaning, saying only, "We'd be glad to have you."

The problem would be reaching the clearing where the rest of the travelers were hopefully waiting. For all we knew it could be a couple days' walk away. I voiced this worry and was rewarded with a slow smile from Brandel.

"I had a feeling that roc would come in handy", and he started walking toward the said beast.

"Wait," I interjected sharply, "Come in handy...how?"

"Transportation," was the brief reply.

I began to regret my rash decision to allow him to come with us.

"No! No. You can't honestly expect us to ride that...that _thing_? It's a carnivorous monster!"

"Exactly." And the fire-witch dropped into his house, leaving me very confused and worried, not the best emotional combination for a cat.

He emerged a couple minutes later carrying a large hunk of meat over his shoulder. This he showed to the trapped roc, whose golden eyes widened at the sight.

"Are you sure that's wise?" I asked as the bird struggled fiercely to reach the meat.

Brandel ignored me and crept closer to the bird, speaking to it in a coaxing voice.

"Calm down. Calm down...I'll let you free if you don't attack..."

Olemer and I watched in astonishment as the fire-witch not only calmed the creature, but also negotiated a ride by means of the simple bribe of a piece of meat. Finally, without turning his head, he instructed us to jump onto the roc's back when he said--

"Now!" And the fire-ropes vanished, he threw the meat to the roc, and we jumped on its back. Brandel had kept one set of ropes to use as reigns of a sort.

"Oh wonderful! Brilliant bribing it with food, but what happens when it decides we're just as tasty?"

Brandel laughed. "I certainly can't tame that thing with food alone, though it must have been awfully hungry to have cooperated this far. The meat's spelled; I've had a concoction sitting around for a while that gives one power over any non-intelligent creature that consumes it. Quite convenient, actually."

"I can imagine," I muttered, rather embarrassed for not having thought of such a potion. Making it is a complex process, but not outside the abilities of the average witch. The downside is that it only lasts twenty-four hours.

Just then the last of the meat vanished down the roc's gullet and Brandel snapped the reigns. The sudden movement of the body under me almost tossed me off, but Olemer grabbed me and tucked me under his arm. Utterly undignified, I know, but it's not like I had a choice.

At first he roc had some trouble disentangling itself from the clutching branches, but after some twisting, jerking, struggling, and flapping, its monstrous wings came loose and we were airborne.

That was a sensation I hoped never to experience again. As my body rushed to great altitudes my stomach stayed behind; and—oh horror of horrors!—wind in my face! If cats were meant to fly...well, if cats were meant to fly they wouldn't be cats.

Needless to say, we flew north; it took about an hour to reach the border, during which time we gazed at the vast Forest below us, and I tried not to be motion-sick. The giant treetops were now reduced to the appearance of the moss that grew far beneath their leafy boughs. Occasionally a tiny piece of the green field would move or shrink from sight; we even spotted bits changing color from pink to yellow to blue to polka-dots. These sights became increasingly common the farther north we advanced.

When we finally reached the end of the Enchanted Forest and the wild expanses of the North, the roc landed and was instructed by Brandel to find food for itself and hurry back. The three of us scavenged for food at the edge of the Forest. Between the two of them Olemer and Brandel found some apparently non-enchanted roots and berries, perfectly good for humans, I suppose. My meal consisted of some more cat-friendly tidbits I collected...

When the roc returned we continued our flight, this time east since Brandel's house was somewhat west of the castle.

This second flight, while equally uncomfortable, was more interesting. On our left lay the Northern Kingdom, which I had never seen. It was mostly grass-covered plains, but farther west was a rocky area terminating in a cloud of fog, and north of the plains rose dark, craggy mountains looming over a long lake below. Straight ahead of us was the northernmost spur of the Mountains of Morning, which connected with the other mountain chain by low rolling hills.

I was so absorbed by the scenery and the fresh scent of the northern winds that we reached the clearing much sooner than I expected. There below us were a couple small figures and one rather larger figure, and Brandel guided the roc into a dive toward our companions.


	9. In Which Plains Give Us a Stormy Welcome

9. In Which the Plains Give Us a Stormy Welcome

It was delightful to see the looks of stunned surprise on their faces as we landed gracefully in their midst on a huge white flesh-eating flying monster. To tell the truth, I didn't blame them. They were all there--all except Fiddlesticks—and they were all staring at the roc. Shiara was the first to break the silence.

"And what exactly is that?"

"A roc," answered Olemer immediately. "We tamed it."

"Only temporarily, and what's this about 'we'? I don't seem to recall you being particularly helpful." Brandel directed a contemptuous glance at Olemer, which went unnoticed by the prince, who was busy staring dreamily at the Butterfly.

"Brandel!" said Morwen, the surprise in her voice evident. "I didn't know you still lived in the Forest."

"I found a comfortable place on the west side, undisturbed by princes and heroes."

"I see you kept Aunt Ophelia out of mischief, but where's Fiddlesticks?"

Brandel looked at me and I answered, "He managed to slip off and we couldn't find a trace of him."

Morwen nodded quickly. "Not surprising. He should find his way to the house all right."

"Yes, well, no more chatting; we should decide whether to push on or stay here for the night," Kazul broke in, her long tail swishing impatiently, "We've wasted enough time already."

"Sorry about that," said Daystar apologetically. Interrupting Tyra's protests that he did wonderfully Kazul told him, "It wasn't your fault, boy; we pushed you to try even though you warned us against it." This seemed to lift Daystar's spirits a bit and he gave the dragon a grateful look before turning to the rest of us.

"I say we stay here; the Forest will offer us some protection."

"From the things outside the Forest, sure, but what about the things in it? There are plenty of creatures willing to eat the reckless traveler," I pointed out. I know it sounded a bit cowardly, but a cat's got to watch out for herself.

"Not while I'm around," was Daystar's short reply, and the flash of dragon's teeth in the gathering gloom reminded me that not many creatures willingly take on a dragon.

Having agreed to stay in the clearing for the night we set up camp. We passed an uneventful few hours, someone always awake to keep watch and feed the fire. Morning broke blindingly on the second day of our journey.

It took us fifteen minutes to walk through the last belt of woods before the border. As usual I rode Kazul, and Tyra fluttered aggravatingly around Daystar's head. The roc soared above the trees as Brandel ordered him to.

Then we saw the break in the trees. The edge of the Forest! Before us were spread the grasslands of the North. It looked much larger from the ground than it did from the sky, and it was then that I realized just how long this quest could take.

"Let's keep moving instead of gawking openmouthed like a school of fish," suggested Shiara, apparently impressed as much as I at the task ahead.

So we made the plunge across the border. Daystar shuddered; I had felt it too—the sudden change in the air around us, the emptiness, the absence of magic. It was quite a shock to me since I'd lived in the Forest my whole life. Sure, I'd been to the Mountains of Morning from time to time, but there's dragon magic there. It's not as potent as the Enchanted Forest, but still quite a contrast to this vacuum.

"I had forgotten what it's like without magic," Daystar said quietly. "I haven't been even to the Mountains of Morning in a year."

Olemer didn't pause but continued walking, not having noticed our hesitation. Daystar took a deep breath and started after the other prince with the rest of us close behind. I knew the change in the atmosphere must have been the strongest for him; even though he had only lived in the Forest a couple years, he was a member of the Royal Family and therefore closely connected to its magic.

We were to proceed north across the vast plains until we found the Paradise Puddle, a small body of water that Janar (the hero who hid the Stick in the first place, in case you've forgotten) supposedly drank from, at which point we'd turn west.

So the Quest for the Royal Stick continued north under the brightest of blue skies. Not a cloud was in sight, barring the ever-present mist to the west. The tall grass waved its golden stems in the fresh, light breeze and grasshoppers whirred across our path. It was an altogether perfect day, not that it remained so.

It's a very unfortunate feature of quests that something is bound to go wrong. It's as if everything that can possibly get in your way will as soon as it finds out you've got a task to accomplish.

And so, despite the flawless weather, promptly at ten o'clock the clouds arrived. I'm not quite sure how, only that the sky was blue one moment with a couple distant clouds in the west that could cause trouble in an hour or two. Five minutes later the great black things were on us, bringing with them gifts of lightning, rain, and winds capable of blowing a dragon off course.

As you should know, lightning and flat plains are a bad combination, especially when you happen to be the tallest thing on them. I myself was not, but my companions were, and I did not look forward to seeing them fried. We had to find shelter. But what kind of shelter can you find on empty grasslands?

We struggled on for a few minutes, the wind fighting us at every step. Could it possibly get worse? Yes, as a matter of fact, it could and did so with a will. Hail began to fall. So, with ice balls the size of chicken eggs pelting us, rain drenching us to the skin, wind blowing our whiskers off--those of us who had them, namely me--and lightning threatening to crisp us, you can imagine our ecstasy at seeing a hut appear before us as we topped a small hillock.


	10. In Which We Try to Relax

10. In Which We Try to Relax but Are Rudely Interrupted

Rudely built one-room huts with half the roof off may not be perfect to live in, but for people hiding from killer storms they're quite comfortable. We collapsed in the driest corner; all except Kazul, who didn't fit and merely thrust her head in. Fortunately dragons are covered in thick scales that repelled both water and hailstones with equal ease.

No one, not even the Butterfly spoke as we relaxed, water pouring off every limb. The hut was far from silent, though. Outside thunder roared and through the many holes in the roof I could see the black sky flash with lightning. Rain flooded onto the hut's dirt floor, and it was only thanks to the uneven ground that we weren't drowned.

I began to lick off the cold rainwater caught in my fur and was pleased when my tortoiseshell coat resumed its usual spiky fluff instead of sticking wetly to my skin... unbearable.

"Where's that big bird thing?" Shiara asked abruptly.

The roc! I had completely forgotten about it in the excitement of the storm.

"Probably the spell wore off and it's flown away."

"I hope so; it was rather frightening," commented Glitter.

If you've been paying attention you should remember that the taming charm is only effective for twenty-four hours. You might even have realized that twenty-four hours had not yet passed since the roc devoured the spelled meat. However, because of the animal's size the potion could easily have not lasted that long. Or so we assumed.

The tempest showed no sign of slowing, so we settled in and ate lunch. Though the food was slightly soggy (bottomless food bags don't protect against drenching rains), our recent ordeals had sharpened our appetites and we ate until we could hold no more. At least I did; I'm normally not one to stuff myself, but I'll admit under tough conditions food can be an ideal stress-reliever.

Once everyone was dry and fed conversation started up again. I won't bore you with details, mainly more planning with the occasional pointless comment from Tyra and long stories from Olemer of how many of these infamous northern storms he'd survived.

I myself, resisting the urge to nap, began to study the surroundings and noticed some things I'd missed earlier. Pinned to the walls were the remains of large pieces of parchment--maps. A small rotting wooden table in one corner held a jumble of other papers, a bedraggled quill, and an inch of yellowish-grey dust. The hut appeared to be the former abode of a scholar. A scholar in the midst of a vast plain. Things were getting interesting.

Morwen spotted the table too and walked over to it, sidestepping puddles and waterfalls from the roof.

"What are they?" Brandel inquired.

"They appear to be poems of some sort--" she held a page up to the minimal light sneaking its way through the thick clouds. "Wait, songs, they're songs."

Olemer got up and read over Morwen's shoulder.

"'Swords rang and blood flowed,

And they crushed their foe--

So the victory was won

At the greatest battle of the age.'

A ballad!" he exclaimed with satisfaction. "Just like the ones they would sing in my father's hall..." Olemer gazed out at the rain, lost in memories of his home.

"It's your hall now," Daystar reminded him.

"Yes, I suppose so... I wonder if our adventure will ever be put into song—I can see it now, a minstrel telling the tale of the eight brave travelers and their noble quest..." his voice trailed off dreamily.

But as I thought of the "Royal Stick" and "Paradise Puddle" my hopes were less sanguine.

I turned my attention to the stained maps pinned to the crumbling walls. They were marked with forests, mountains, plains, and oceans. In Mendanbar's castle there was a quiet little room I liked to sit in full of dusty maps by which I had learned much of the surrounding geography; but I could tell these maps showed no place I'd learned of.

"What do you make of these?" I asked the room in general.

"Oh, are they--"

"I wasn't asking you!" I snapped at Olemer.

Brandel scrutinized the pieces of parchment. "It looks familiar, but I can't think where it is... certainly not this continent."

"Look!" Olemer had returned to the table. "This ballad's about Janar! Maybe it'll help us!"

By this time everyone was crowded around the small table, flipping through the songs.

Suddenly there was a CRACK! and a flash and part of the remaining roof splintered apart. Lightning had hit the hut. Before we could do anything the splinters caught fire, and despite the pouring rain the fire spread to the walls. those, being much drier than the roof, started blazing up beautifully. Well, beautifully unless you happened to be in the hut--then it was horrifying.

"Gather the papers!" Daystar shouted and proceeded to grab an armload. The others followed suit and shoved papers under their cloaks. Then we rushed back out into the cold, wet rain. And I had just gotten dry!

For a minute we gazed mournfully at the smoldering remains of our shelter. And the storm cleared. Suddenly. By this time thoroughly befuddled we continued our journey, but hadn't walked five minutes when a screech reached our ears.

No, it never ends.

A/N: JustWriter2-Thanks for pointing that out about transporting dragons; I'd forgotten. (story edited; the problem is no longer a problem)

About Ophelia being too straightforward... what do you mean? I read all the parts of the series where she plays a role and I thought my portrayal was fine. But if you can suggest an improvement, please tell me. As for being too self-centered to explain things, you're probably right, but I couldn't very well write a story without explaining stuff and expect my readers to follow.


	11. In Which We Meet Lizards

11. In Which We Meet Lizards

It didn't take us long to find the source of the shrieking. We topped a flat hill and there it was--the roc; wounded, apparently. Its leg was broken, twisted under it at a gruesome angle. As we walked closer to the bird I could see a bloody gash in its wing as well.

That was when I noticed what was stalking around the roc.

I thought at first they were birds... but what bird has a long, snakelike body covered in maroonish purple scales? They were about two feet high and had the two legs of a bird, and vicious gray beaks, but no wings and no feathers. And they were pecking at the roc. Unpleasant, to say the least.

"Oh my," Morwen said in a disgusted tone. Morwen's always so calm in times of danger. I stayed behind her.

"They're sylopterix," Olemer informed us, obviously proud of his knowledge.

"And perhaps since these come from the north you'll be able to help us this time?" Brandel didn't sound too hopeful.

"Cut off their tails; their heads grow back."

"Ummmmm..." Daystar sounded unwilling to follow this advice, presumably both because it was an... unusual course of action and because Olemer had suggested it. Surprisingly enough, it was Brandel who started forward, a ball of flame already glowing in his hand.

"Wait!" Shiara shouted. "Why should we help the roc at all? As soon as it's better it'll eat us! You said the spell was only temporary, and anyway, this journey will be long enough without stopping to rescue every carnivore in distress we pass."

"But that's just it--the spell!" Brandel replied. "It's my fault the roc's injured in the first place. I never said it could leave us, so it must have followed us into the storm. It got knocked out of the sky by the hail and the sylopterix came to eat it! I can't just leave it there."

"We'd better get moving then, if we intend to keep it alive." Morwen was right—the sylopterix were having trouble getting past the roc's huge feathers, but they found a clearer spot at its wing wound. They were nimble, easily dodging the roc's good leg, which was thrashing around trying to scrape them off.

And so they plunged into the midst of the lizard creatures--and by "they" I mean Brandel, Daystar, Olemer, Morwen, and Kazul. Shiara hung back for a minute, still thinking the fight was a bad idea, but she eventually gave in and joined the others. The Butterfly was hiding somewhere; or perhaps, I hoped, she was still in the burning hut.

I myself was of two minds: either win eternal glory and fame by biting off a few lizard tails, or sit here watching the others win eternal glory and fame. I leaned towards the latter option, but I couldn't abandon my friends.

Not that they needed me. By the time I got there most of the sylopterix tails had been fried, sliced, or bitten off. It was a fascinating scene; every time a lizard was de-tailed, it would swell up to twice its normal size, then pop like a soap bubble, leaving behind nothing but a faint smell of strawberries. Unfortunately, they didn't taste like strawberries...

Morwen, Brandel, and Kazul began tending to the roc's wounds, leaving the rest of us to finish off the sylopterix. As the epic battle drew to a close, the last lizard attacked Shiara from behind, leaping onto her back and aiming its sharp beak at her neck. She sent jets of orange flame at the thing, but because of its scurrying and dodging she couldn't hit its tail. Instead she blasted off its head, which was promptly replaced by another sprouting out of its neck like a tulip bursting through the spring soil. Or something along those lines.

During these dramatic events the rest of us hurried to her aid. Daystar, being closest, reached her first and sliced through the creature's wriggling tail with a well-aimed swipe of his blade.

Shiara stood perfectly still while Daystar swung the sword. She didn't move as the lizard popped and disappeared. As soon as the scent of strawberries reached her nostrils she turned without a word and strode over to help heal the roc.

A/N-It's been a while...hope you like the new chapter; and if it took a herd of purple dinosaurs to make it work, hey, we all have our own methods...


	12. In Which I Eavesdrop

12. In Which I Eavesdrop and We Find an Unusual Rest Stop

That night we sat around a blazing fire; the rain had stopped shortly after the skirmish with the sylopterix, but it was still damp and a chill breeze breathed over the plains. The roc lay just outside our circle. Its wounds were clean and bandaged, and it seemed to sleep, but every so often a yellow eye would crack open and survey our group. I had to wonder what it planned for us and if we would have another, harder, battle ahead. It would be a shame, really, to be forced to fight something we had just rescued.

As Morwen cooked a dinner of seasoned fish and heated up some fruit pastries—all compliments of the bottomless sacks (did I mention they're amazing?)—Daystar moved out of the fire's circle of light, wandering off a short distance through the rustling grasses. Shiara got up and followed him. Kazul and Brandel were engaged in a discussion about the roc and Morwen was busy with the cooking, so I was the only one to notice their departure. This promised to be interesting, and I decided to approach stealthily. They say curiosity killed the cat, but it's my belief they really meant the dog.

Daystar glanced over as Shiara came up beside him, then turned his gaze back up to the sky. It was worth looking at; the clouds had completely dispersed, leaving a glittering array of constellations flung out across the blackness. Having spent my entire life until then in a dense forest, I'd never seen so many stars. The sky was so big here. It's not often I feel insignificant, but some scenes are too grand...

Shiara spoke first, interrupting my deep thoughts. "Thank you for...what you did today. I couldn't do anything..." she trailed off.

It was a few moments before Daystar answered, "You're welcome."

Another long pause, during which they both deliberately stared at the sky.

Finally Daystar broke the silence. "I'm sorry for what I said a few days ago; I really did—do want your company."

"I know," she said quickly. "I just... I don't know what I expected as a welcome. But I shouldn't have gotten mad at you like that."

I couldn't believe my ears—an apology from Shiara? Where were the sparks, the flames shooting out of her head? Unless I was greatly mistaken, something important was happening.

But, just as they finally brought their gaze down from the heavens to look at each other, Morwen called out that dinner was ready.

On her way back to the fire Shiara swatted at something by her ear. "Ow!"

"What?" Daystar asked.

"Something bit me, or pinched me, on the ear. I couldn't see what it was."

My keen eyesight, however, detected a faint glitter speeding through the night. It seemed someone was jealous.

…

Next morning we woke to the question of the roc.

"Well, we certainly can't abandon it here to be eaten by another flock of sylopterix after putting in all the effort to rescue it the first time. We've lost a day and I don't intend to let it go to waste." Morwen displayed her usual good sense.

"Can it travel like this?" Daystar asked.

"Will it eat us?" I added under my breath.

"It certainly looks eager to accompany us," Brandel pointed out.

It was true; the bird heaved its monstrous body off the ground and was hobbling closer, using its good wing as a second leg.

"Do you want to join us?" Brandel addressed the roc directly and it nodded vigorously in reply.

"And in return for us rescuing you, you'll promise not to harm us?" Another nod. "And you will provide transportation if asked? Once you're fully healed of course." Answered in the affirmative.

And so it was that the roc became a member of our quest. It moved very quickly in spite of its injury; the sheer size of its stride made up for its awkward gait.

…

The next two days passed by uneventfully. On the first day we came across a scummy sort of pond between two low hills. Olemer claimed enthusiastically that it was the Paradise Puddle, and we began traveling west.

During our meal breaks we brought out the papers we had taken from the hut. Most of them were too damaged by the rain or were just too old and faded to decipher. A few were smaller versions of the maps on the walls, depicting strange continents and islands. The most interesting papers for us were those mentioning Janar (the hero of the Royal Stick, as you may recall). Most of it told the same story Olemer was so caught up in—Caves of Terror, Deadly Demon and all that. But the last page was written hurriedly, and in horrible handwriting. Add to this the water stain smearing the bottom left and the rip in the top right... suffice to say we couldn't make out much of it. What we could read seemed to indicate a second hiding place; perhaps the stick behind the Pass of Doom was only a decoy.

In addition to the sloppy writing, the style of the page was different as well; while the other pages were written as a history or ballad, the last bit seemed more like a collection of hints and notes, a later discovery.

Olemer was inclined to disregard it. "There are always some crazy archaeologists who claim to have found the Royal Stick or some other treasure. They've never been right yet."

But I found the notes intriguing; who left them? Why did he want the stick? And, most of all, why did it have to be the location of the hiding place that was torn off!

We had been heading west for a day and a half. The rocky wasteland seemed to come no closer. Though I wasn't sure if I liked the idea of trekking through a rocky wasteland. Sounded rather painful.

The roc's leg was improving rapidly; it was able to put weight on the mending limb. The wing was another matter, however. It would probably be a while before we could ride the bird anywhere, and, despite my qualms about flight, I wouldn't have minded speeding the trip up a bit.

The sun was dropping in front of us, sending long rays of color across the western sky. Soon we would make camp again. The problem with plains is there's no shelter, and there's always wind. No matter what the day's weather was like, the wind would continue. Sometimes it was a gentle, persistent breath; other times it would come in great gusts, almost knocking us over. And then there were the wailing ones. I didn't care for those at all.

Thinking these pleasant thoughts, I almost stumbled into the crevasse that opened at my feet. I'm still not sure where it came from; one moment we were staring at the endless flat expanses, then we were standing at the edge of a deep crack in the ground. It seemed to lead all the way to the mountains in the north, and there was a stream flowing at the bottom. Even more interesting was the house—mansion, really—built up next to the stream.

It seemed we had found a place to rest for the night. We scrambled down the steep path leading to the mansion, not wanting to traverse the treacherous ground after nightfall.


	13. In Which We Enjoy the Hospitality

A/N—I used more description than usual in this chapter; tell me if you like it better this way or if it's too much.

13. In Which We Enjoy the Hospitality of the Manor

I could see the mansion much closer from the bottom of the crevasse. It was a great sprawling thing with many windows, and each window had many diamond-shaped panes. The whole building was brick and stone; marble figures shady and blurred with distance and dim light crouched upon the edge of the roof, and intricate designs of vines and dragons were carved into the stone frames of the windows. The only wood was the door, which was tall and broad with heavy wrought iron hinges and bolts. The wood itself had more carving—this time a phoenix surrounded by curling flames.

Around the mansion ran a fence, or wall, about six feet tall. Heavy blocks of marble alternated with stretches of elegantly twisted iron fence. The gate in this fence was wide open.

We crossed an elegant cobblestoned bridge spanning the creek and approached the gate. Since we didn't know who might inhabit such a place, we moved cautiously, looking around for signs of ambush or wizards. But the sight of many lighted windows and the anticipation of spending the night in a solid shelter overcame our apprehension, and we passed through the gate.

"Halt!" a voice demanded from the darkness. I jumped, as did Olemer and Brandel, who were closest to the voice. I heard the Butterfly squeal somewhere behind me. A figure stepped out from a sheltered alcove beside the door to block our path.

"Who seeks entry here?"

"We were just hoping to spend the night; we saw this place and it looked much nicer than camping out in the wind," Brandel calmly told the guard, for so the stranger seemed to be.

A spark flashed and suddenly a torch blazed to life, illuminating the man's face. He was quite young, with light hair and a simple blue uniform. In the hand not holding the torch he carried a spear, and there was a sword in a plain black scabbard hanging at his side.

"We haven't had many visitors lately." The emphasis he placed on the word "visitors" showed obvious suspicion.

"What is this place? We'll leave if you really don't want us." Daystar spoke this time.

The guard looked out at the darkness and noted the wind whistling down the valley. The suspicion slowly left his face and he turned back to Daystar.

"It's not that we're inhospitable, it's just that we have to keep the wizards away... Wait! Did you say you _saw_ this place?"

"Of course we saw it; it's not exactly small!" Shiara replied.

"But it should be invisible! The spell must be acting up again..." he muttered. "Unless you are wizards, and you broke the invisibility barrier," he added, the suspicion back in his voice.

"And why would wizards be traveling with a dragon?" Kazul stepped forward into the torch's light. The guard's eyes widened; he'd probably never seen a dragon before.

"I... I don't suppose they would," he stammered.

"No, they wouldn't. So are you going to let us in?"

"All right. As long as you mean no harm." He led the way to the door and grasped the heavy iron ring with both hands. He leaned back, using his weight to pull the door open. It creaked loudly as it swung on the rough hinges. Golden light flooded the pathway and we stepped into the warm glow of hundreds of kindled torches.

We had entered a large circular hall lined with more doors, but these were smaller and less ornate. The floor was white marble and the high walls were hung with red, blue, and green banners. The aforementioned blazing torches sat in silver brackets running all the way up the walls to the ceiling. Quite a change from the threatening outdoors.

"Please wait here while I fetch Sir Harol." He gestured to a couple benches along the unoccupied walls, then disappeared through one of the doors.

As soon as he departed, Morwen spoke up. "Not friendly to wizards, eh? That's reassuring. I wonder what the wizards have done here?"

"We'll have to ask this Sir Harol, whoever he is."

We didn't have to wait long to find out. It was only a few minutes before a different door burst open and a large man of middle years strode into the hall.

"Welcome to Harol Manor! I—" he paused for dramatic effect "—am Sir Harol. Here we provide refuge for all—lords, ladies, fairy godmothers, enchanted princesses, or whatever else you may be! As long as physical danger or social ruin threatens your well-being, my home is your home!" He added more information in a fast, low voice: "This offer does not extend to those suffering from mental, spiritual, or transduceral afflictions and excludes all nightshades and wizards. Other restrictions may apply."

It was only after this unusual and obviously rehearsed greeting that our host actually looked at us.

"Rather large crowd today. Of course, we haven't had many refugees lately... what exactly is it you're running from?"

"Just the weather, at the moment," Morwen answered.

"Oh." Sir Harol sounded slightly disappointed, as if he had expected a more thrilling answer. "Well, I assume you're hungry. Please, join me for dinner, and tell me your story. There must be some good reason you've come all the way out here."

…

It was actually Sir Harol who told us his story during dinner. (Quite a good dinner, by the way; we had chicken!) Apparently his ego couldn't allow him to welcome guests without giving a full account of himself and his establishment. We were grateful, though, as it gave us time to decide how much of our own quest to tell our esteemed host.

"I founded Harol Manor twenty years ago; in no little danger I was at the time, I must say. You see, I had competition for the position of Lord Chancellor, and my opponent—I don't like to say his name, if I can help it—my opponent had assassins. Quite dreadful, really. He obviously saw me as a great threat to his chances. So I had to leave. I'm no coward, I'll have you know, but assassins are just a bit too much, don't you think? I came here—not to the manor, of course, that wasn't here yet—but I came to the valley. A proper little paradise—secluded location, fertile land, and extraordinarily large fish. This is where I conceived my honorable goal of establishing a refuge for the oppressed, the hunted, the homeless—Harol Manor!" You can imagine the pride and drama in that last sentence; it left us in no doubt as to his Nobility of Heart and -cough- Unparalleled Courage.

However, this account did not leave us much more enlightened than before, and we were forced to ask a few clarifying questions.

"I take it then, that you were of the nobility before your journey here?" Morwen enquired.

"Oh goodness no! But you see that my cousin had married the brother-in-law of the king's second cousin, so I was in a prime position to become Lord Chancellor. No, no noble blood in me at all, I'm afraid."

"Then you must be a knight! What an honorable profession, my dear sir!" This was Olemer, of course.

Harol looked slightly awkward at this. "Um, actually, not a knight, either. Never had the stomach for such things..."

"Then perhaps you could enlighten us as to the origin of the 'sir' in your name?" Daystar politely requested.

Harol hesitated, then poured out a rushed explanation. "I admit I don't have a right to the title, but you just can't be called 'Harol of Harol Manor'! It doesn't sound right at all! I mean, compare that to 'Sir Harol of Harol Manor.'"

"I suppose I can see what you're saying..." Shiara admitted slowly.

"Well, now that that important matter has been cleared up," Kazul said, "please explain your aversion to wizards." It was a convenient feature of the Manor that all the doors were big enough for a dragon to squeeze through.

"It's not so much my aversion to wizards as Varonyr's. He's been with us about a year now, and he used to visit before that, and it was he who put up the invisibility barrier. Speaking of which, you said that's not working anymore?"

"It doesn't seem to be, but you still haven't explained why Varonyr doesn't like wizards."

"That's who he was running from when he came here. Seems he'd done some research the wizards were interested in, knew too much about something, I guess, so they tried to do him in. I'm not sure how they compare to assassins, but from what Varonyr's told me, they don't sound pleasant."

"Is this Varonyr a magician, then?"

"You could say that, though he prefers being called a scholar. Always into his big maps and historical papers, he is."

"Maps..." Daystar murmured, remembering what we had found in the dilapidated hut. "He wouldn't have ever mentioned the Royal Stick, by chance?"

"Royal Stick? That's got something to do with why he left last month, if I'm not mistaken. Invisibility barrier's been acting up ever since."

"So he's not here now?" The disappointment was evident in Shiara's voice.

"He said not to expect him for at least a month, though I think it'll be a month tomorrow."

"Sounds like we should wait for a few days. It would be worth the time if we find out the Stick's not where we think it is," Morwen addressed all of us.

And so we settled in to await the arrival of our scholar of the hut. I think we were all relieved to be living in comfort; the beds proved to be as comfortable as the food was tasty, and those are the important things in the life of a cat.


	14. In Which Tempers Flare

14. In Which Tempers Flare

I enjoyed the next three days immensely. I had an abundance of space in which to roam, I was fed well and often, and I had dozens of windows at my disposal, each with a comfortable place to laze around and observe the great outdoors. What greater joy is there than to sit in the sunlight at an open casement, the gentle breeze ruffling your fur?

The day after our arrival saw me sitting at a north-facing window. I was watching two figures at work in the small patch of field just outside the fence on that side. That was where the food came from; Harol Manor included a miniature farm. The long-term inhabitants—of which there were eleven, I discovered—took turns tending the "fields" and the pigs and chickens. It was actually fairly impressive for the bottom of a crevasse.

To my right two other figures were scrubbing laundry in the clear stream. Sheets billowed out over the sparkling water and bubbles floated recklessly downstream, popping as they hit rocks. I could almost smell the soap.

Almost. That was the one thing dampening my spirits. I was forced to admit to myself that my senses of hearing and smell were impaired. I hadn't heard Tyra, the knight at the Forest stream, or the Manor guard until I was right next to them, and now I couldn't smell soap from 50 yards! What was wrong with me? I tried to tell myself it was just a sinus infection, but I knew better. Telemain's blue poison must affect the senses, too, so not only would I talk like a human, I'd smell and hear like one, as well. I could only hope my eyesight didn't go next. He was going to be in so much trouble when we got back...

While I was thinking these gloomy thoughts the sun had traveled westward until its warm rays no longer reached my stone sill; I was now sitting in shadow. That would not do; it was time to pick another window. I leapt gracefully to the floor and wandered out into the hallway.

As if to remind me of my weakness, I did not hear the soft footsteps of the person approaching until I ran into her turning a corner.

We both stopped abruptly, and I looked up at the girl. She was about Daystar's age and gorgeous in the usual way, with golden hair and big blue eyes. In fact, she looked suspiciously like a princess.

"Oh! A kitty! How adorable! I wonder where you came from?"

I replied in my haughtiest voice, "I do not appreciate being called an adorable kitty."

"You can talk?"

"Apparently." My voice positively dripped with disdain.

"Are you enchanted, then? Is that why you're here? Oh, it must be _awful_ for you, trapped in a cat's form!"

I gave her a good long glare before answering. "I _am_ a cat."

She blinked, seemingly surprised. "Oh."

Just then Daystar, Shiara, and Brandel came around the corner. Daystar was no longer accompanied by the Butterfly; it seemed she had given up when it became apparent that he was paying more attention to Shiara. In fact, I had seen her just that morning flirting with the young guard.

"Hello, Ophelia."

"Oh!" The girl caught sight of Daystar. I let out an exasperated sigh. I knew he was quite good-looking by human standards, but this was getting to be too much.

"You must be the new guests Father mentioned."

"Father?" I asked.

"Well, adopted father, really. Sir Harol took me in when I was only an infant. I'm Lotis, by the way." We introduced ourselves in turn, and when Lotis heard that Daystar was the prince of the Enchanted Forest, her eyes widened in surprise and delight.

"You're a prince? What a remarkable coincidence! You see, I'm a princess." Fifty points to me. "I don't know what kingdom I belong to, but the note that was pinned to me when I was left here said that I am a princess, exiled to the Manor until it is safe for me to return to my rightful place. I have been here ever since. It gets lonely at times, especially since few people my age visit the Manor. And I've never met a prince before." Lotis looked at Daystar through her long lashes.

"Well, there are two here now; have you met Olemer? I'm sure you'd get along marvelously." Shiara grabbed Daystar's arm, obviously eager to end the conversation.

"I suppose I'll meet him at dinner." Lotis waved her hand dismissively. "How long are you staying?"

"Until Varonyr comes back and we can ask him a few questions."

"Oh, Varonyr's always late, so that could be a couple weeks! How convenient." No one asked what she meant by convenient, but I had a bad feeling about it. So did Shiara, apparently; her expression as she looked at the golden-haired princess was icier than I had thought possible, coming from a fire-witch.

...

Dinner that day was a larger affair than the night before; we ate with all the guests, or refugees, if you prefer. A couple were exiled nobility like Lotis and Harol while others had run from war or disease. One man was under an enchantment and he lived at the Manor to avoid odd looks directed at his bark-like skin and leafy hair.

Lotis was a gracious hostess, making sure to talk to each of the guests, but it was obvious that she paid the most attention to Daystar. It was only after dinner that he managed to escape her chatter—dragged along by Shiara, of course. Needless to say, I quietly followed. At first they only discussed the events of the day and the refugees' various stories. I was about to leave when Shiara burst out with a question.

"Do you think she's pretty?"

"Who?"

"That...princess."

"Yes." Daystar replied carelessly, then hurriedly amended this statement when he saw Shiara's hair smoldering. "But just in the way all princesses are. Nothing special, really." He waited uneasily for a reply.

"Well, yes, I suppose that's true." Shiara sounded satisfied with his explanation and Daystar let out his breath in relief. He really needed to think before speaking, especially around girls likely to spontaneously combust.

...

The next day passed uneventfully. All of us, excluding the roc and the Butterfly and including Lotis, spent it in the library looking for more clues to the Royal Stick's whereabouts. It was more an excuse to be doing something than a real help, since we were waiting for Varonyr anyway. But humans have such difficulty doing nothing, an affliction I, happily, do not suffer from.

It wasn't until our third full day since arriving that events picked up. I had just found a gorgeous window, complete with a squashy seat, that overlooked the Manor's flower garden, and I was settling down for a short nap when I heard voices below. I poked my head over the windowsill to see Daystar and Lotis stroll into the garden. Lotis was laughing, but Daystar looked slightly uncomfortable and kept glancing over his shoulder.

"You must tell me more about the Enchanted Forest; it's so _fascinating_! Come sit with me." Lotis gestured to a bench in the cool shade of a flowering arbor.

"I'd love to, but I really must go—I promised... I mean I have to meet—"

"Nonsense! You spend all your time with Shiara. Can't you stay with me for ten minutes?" Daystar attempted to pull away from Lotis, but she had a firm grip on his arm.

"It's not fair! You and Shiara get to travel and see so many wonderful places... and I'm stuck here, dreadfully lonely and with no one to talk to. The others are nice people, but not really the kind you want to spend time with, and not one of them is handsome..." Daystar swallowed, obviously not liking the direction this was taking. He pried her long fingers off his arm and almost got away, but Lotis was quick. She flung her arms around his neck and pulled his face close to hers and... kissed him.

She actually kissed him.

And at that precise moment, with impeccable timing, Shiara walked out into the garden. The kiss wasn't long; Daystar jerked away almost immediately, but the damage was done. I braced myself for an explosion of the worst—and most literal—kind. There was none. Instead, the only evidence of Shiara's fury was in her clenched fists and the red glow of her eyes. I wondered just how angry a fire-witch must be _not_ to burst into flame. It was a frightening thought.

Shiara spoke rapidly and fiercely. "I can't believe you! After all we've been through, after everything you've said, this is how you treat me? You told me you didn't love her! You lied! Just because I'm not some flirt of a princess doesn't mean you have to lie to me! That's it, isn't it? I'm no princess, only a common fire-witch, not GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS!" She slapped him in the face, leaving a burning hand print across his cheek, and she ran back into the Manor.

"Shiara, wait! I didn't mean for it to happen!" He started after her, but Lotis once again gripped his arm.

"But Daystar, don't you—"

"Get away from me!" He twisted out of her grasp and rushed inside, calling for Shiara.

But she could not be found. Sometime late that night I heard her bedroom door shut (her room was next to mine and Morwen's). And unless I'm greatly mistaken, I also caught the sound of her crying herself to sleep.

It wasn't until an hour or two later that I heard something else.


	15. In Which I Discover Our Enemy

15. In Which I Discover Our Enemy

I had been sleeping lightly—despite the usually aloof exterior of cats, we really can be quite concerned over the well-being of others, and I was not entirely at ease over Shiara's plight, especially given that she was a fire-witch. A fire-witch, moreover, given to violent tantrums and occupying the room next door.

Anyway, I was rudely awakened by the soft sound of a window creaking open—the window next door, I realized. My keen cat hearing had not completely deserted me yet.

I thought little of the sound at first; after all, Shiara had as much right to enjoy the fresh night air as the rest of us. But what followed made me wonder… I heard someone—Shiara, I assumed—walking around the room, though the tread was heavier than I expected. Even then, being very comfortable on the soft bed, I would have ignored the noise and dozed off again, but what followed left me quite on edge and unable to ignore my curiosity further. I heard cloth ripping, a muttered curse, and the unmistakable sound of someone climbing out the window.

That was when I cautiously jumped off the bed and crept toward the other room to investigate. If Shiara intended to jump out the window, I certainly intended to prevent it. If I could.

It didn't occur to me to wake Morwen; she was soundly asleep, and cats do their sneaking better solo. Besides, in a case like this, time can be precious.

I would guess that Shiara's door was locked. To be honest, I have no idea, not being in possession of the appendages recommended for opening doors. I didn't worry about the door. Ventilation systems are much more convenient in situations like these. Not that I'd ever been in a situation like this before… but I digress.

The shaft that connected Shiara's room to Morwen's and mine was not large, but I am not a large cat. After a couple seconds of crouching I found myself in the fire-witch's room. Her empty room.

I was too late! She must have been more desperate than I'd thought. I rushed to the open window and leapt up onto the sill, expecting to see some horrific sight on the ground below, but what I saw instead was a large, dark figure moving slowly across the grounds away from the Manor.

What relief I felt was quickly overcome by confusion, followed by great concern as I noted that the large figure was actually three—two upright forms carrying a horizontal form between them. Whoever these strangers were, it was unlikely that they were friends, and very likely that their cargo was in fact Shiara.

Realizing that there was little time if I wished to keep the figures in sight, and deeply deploring this fact, I resolved to follow immediately. The fanciful architecture of the Manor made it just possible for an agile cat to make her way to the ground from Shiara's window. I leapt carefully from sill to gutter to gargoyle to roof, my landings often more precarious than I would have liked. There was one distressing moment when the tip of an eagle's beak decided to crumble just as my back foot rested its weight on the narrow stone. After that my pace slowed a bit from nerves, and by the time I reached the ground the group of three was out of sight. Hoping to gain lost time (drat those humans who could use ropes for their midnight climbing), I ran in the direction they had been going when I spotted them from the window, namely, north.

After about fifteen minutes I heard voices. I had just gained the top of a small wooded hill set back from the river, and from there I looked down upon my quarry.

They were arranged around a large, snapping fire, though now there were four of them, three men surrounding an unconscious Shiara. Two were dressed in dark clothes—presumably the two I had seen earlier—and the third sent my heart sinking to my tired toes. Bearded, wearing long robes, and holding tightly to a staff. I should have known a wizard was behind this.

I could tell they were conversing, but I couldn't make out the words, so I crept silently down the hill, fervently grateful for my diminutive stature and soft feet.

I heard the wizard speak first:

"What is this?"

"Jes' whatcher said, guv."

"Third floor, second window on the left, we was told, sir."

"Didn't give us no trouble, neither. Silent as thieves, we was."

"That's 'cos we _are_ thieves. Ain't hard to tell who's got the brains 'round here."

_Brains?_ I wondered. I got the strong impression that the term was being applied rather loosely.

"The _second_ floor, _third_ on the left, you imbeciles! We need the _prince_! And just _what_ are we supposed to do with _her_?" The wizard emphasized his words by pounding his staff angrily on the ground.

"Umm... sorry, guv—sir."

"Sorry... I'm guessin' we was misinformationed."

"And now _I_ have to break the news of _your_ incompetence to the master."

One of the thieves snorted, "Glad it ain't me."

The wizard glared at him.

Just then, Shiara slowly opened her eyes, lifted her head slightly, and peered groggily around.

Obviously glad of the distraction, the thief directed the wizard's attention to their captive. "She's awake!"

Thank goodness, I thought, she won't need my help after all. Now she can blast her way past the other three and I can show her the way back to the Manor and we can both go back to bed and stop worrying. One wizard is no match for an angry fire-witch.

The other thief—the taller one, I noticed now—put a cup to Shiara's lips, and she drank greedily until she found herself staring into the eyes of the wizard.

She jerked backwards and tried to scramble away, and that was how she discovered that her hands were tied behind her back. She fell awkwardly but still managed to glare haughtily up at the wizard towering over her, despite her undignified position. I imagine she would have made a rather good cat.

"Who are you? Why am I here?" she spat at him, then muttered, "Wherever here is…" She didn't seem to be quite awake yet; though her words were as fierce as usual, her speech was slightly slurred and almost hesitant, as if she were struggling to put her sentences in order.

"There's been a slight misunderstanding, but I'm afraid you'll have to stay here for a while yet. Can't have you off blabbing to your friends about us."

Shiara sat up slowly and tugged at her bonds. I expected them to come off in a blast of flames, which shouldn't have been a problem for her; since her magic had been released from its restrictive tie to polite behavior, she had had complete control over spells. But nothing happened, and the rope stubbornly continued to encircle her wrists. Her hair wasn't even catching on fire, which was a very bad sign, given how frustrated she was becoming. I was getting rather worried.

"Ah, yes, you have been temporarily relieved of your magic, courtesy of a handy new elixir of ours," the wizard informed her in an infuriatingly polite tone.

"But that's impossible! Fire-witches are immune to enchantment!"

"Not that of another fire-witch. Unfortunately for you, the spell core of the Aquensir has its origins in a fire-witch enchantment; and as you can feel for yourself, the results are quite possible, not to mention effective."

She opened her mouth to argue, but just then one of the thieves spoke. "Beggin' yer pardon, but the Boss is 'ere."

The wizard's head jerked around to peer into the shadows around the camp.

"Well, Teraz, do you have him?" A voice emanated from the darkness, but whoever it was stayed out of the light. Shiara's head tilted toward the voice, and an odd expression came over her face. She seemed to be trying to remember something.

"Uh, sir, that is... well, not exactly—"

"Not _exactly_?" The voice sharpened dangerously.

"I apologize, sir, but _those two_," Teraz pointed an accusing finger at the thieves, who winced and looked steadily at the ground, "got the wrong person!"

"Always quick to pass the blame, Teraz, as usual. So who _exactly_ did you get?" The voice solidified into another wizard as he stepped into the firelight and looked down at Shiara with eyes set deep in a horribly scarred face.

"I see..." he whispered. "We may have some use for her after all, if for nothing more than to satisfy my revenge."

Shiara gasped, her eyes widening. Apparently she had finally realized who the wizard was.

"She's been dosed with Aquensir, I hope?"

"Of course, sir."

"If I weren't, you'd have a few more scars by now to add to your collection, _Antorell_!" She spoke his name with disdain worthy of a cat. "I assure you, I can be quite as dangerous as a demon."

It was then that I realized who this must be. Antorell was the son of the former head wizard and the man who had been pestering first Cimorene, then Daystar, for years. He was never a very good wizard, but under the circumstances I didn't find that too reassuring. It also explained the scars; the last any of us had heard of him was when Daystar had sent him off in the company of a demon. Demons aren't friendly.

Antorell's smirk slid off his face at Shiara's remark. He obviously disliked being reminded of his sojourn with the demons. "So glad to see you remember me," he spat. "I think I'll kill you now."

"But sir!" Teraz gulped as Antorell turned his glare upon him. He spoke hesitantly, "Don't you think we could use her? Possibly in exchange for the prince? If the fairy is right, the others will be eager to have the girl back."

_Fairy?_ Could he mean the Butterfly?

Antorell's eyes narrowed as he considered this proposal. "You may be right... But I will have my revenge, Teraz! No one can keep me from my revenge!"

"Of course, sir. But there will be plenty of time for that if we succeed." Teraz looked extremely relieved that his suggestion was taken so well, and I wondered what made him so afraid of an inept wizard like Antorell.

"We mustn't let the others know we're involved in this, though," Antorell pointed out.

"No, that wouldn't do. We'll send these two, and they'll claim it's a simple case of ransom."

The thieves looked less than thrilled. "Uh, guv, didn'tcha say they 'as a dragon? 'Cos I don't deal with dragons, see—"

"For heaven's sake, we're paying you, aren't we?"

"Right, but—"

"Then stop complaining and do as you're told!"

How long they bickered, I never knew. I didn't stay to listen. Shiara was looking rather dazed and ill, and I had gathered enough information to warn the others of the wizards' plan. There was no sense in trying to help Shiara now, because one cat, even if that cat were considerably braver (and more stupid) than myself, could do little against four grown men, two being wizards. So I headed back to the Manor as quickly as possible.


	16. In Which a Bargain Is Not Struck

**A/N**—I would highly recommend to anyone who read the story before I posted this chapter that they reread 14 and 15. I've made some major changes in the flow of the story and redivided the chapters, so it might not make much sense if you just continue on from here. But hey, I posted a new chapter!

16. In Which a Bargain Is Not Struck

It was nearing dawn as I approached the Manor, contemplating possible ways of getting in. I did not want to try my harrowing night's journey in reverse. I suppose I could have tried the front door, but somehow I didn't like the idea of trying to convince the guard to let me in at that unusual hour when I was in such a hurry to bring my news to Morwen and the others.

I found a likely-looking bit of roof only a couple jumps above me. From the ground I could see that a window just beyond it had been left unlatched, and I made my way up to see if I could push my way in. Sure enough, the window swung open when I prodded it with my nose, and I slipped inside, only to find myself in a dark, musty closet full of towels that smelled even to my failing senses as if they had not been disturbed for fifteen or so years.

While I walked over to the door and nudged it to see if I could get out, I heard a solid click behind me. As the window had swung back after I pushed through, its momentum forced it just a bit farther than it had been before. It was locked. And so was the door.

You can imagine my frustration. A frustration that was not relieved by any amount of shouting or pounding on the door (a very difficult task for a cat) as no one saw fit to respond and rescue me, even though I guessed my position to be very near the bedrooms we had been given. They must have been still asleep.

Having resigned myself to waiting until I heard someone wake up and pass by my prison, I settled down on one of the mildewy towels, only to jump back up again at the sound of several voices in the hall outside my closet, the loudest and angriest of which was Daystar's. It seemed they had discovered Shiara's absence.

"Kidnapped? Are you sure?" That was Brandel.

"Well, she's gone, isn't she?" Daystar snapped.

"She couldn't have… left?" Olemer suggested tentatively.

"We found this bit of cloth, and it's not hers," Morwen quickly explained before Daystar could start shouting again. That explained the ripping sound I had heard; the thieves must have accidentally left a bit of their apparel behind. Incompetent bunglers.

You musn't think I had forgotten my own plight through all this, but with the commotion the others were making, I couldn't make myself heard. I was a little miffed that they didn't even notice that _I_ had gone missing just as much as Shiara, though I suppose a cat's tendency to sneak off at odd hours did make my absence a bit less conspicuous.

"I'm going to find her." Daystar declared, but Morwen firmly opposed rash action.

"We don't know enough yet to start searching. Without having some idea who took her and why, there's no knowing which way they went."

"Then where do you suggest we start?" The poor boy's shouting was rapidly deteriorating to a frustrated helplessness. Morwen's reply was cut off by a shout from outside the Manor. I heard a scuffle in the hall as everyone ran to look. Through my own window I could see the Manor guard pointing toward a group of three figures coming up the ravine. Shiara and two other figures I recognized.

"I suggest we start there," Morwen said as they all made their way downstairs. In a minute I could see them stop just below my window, Kazul casting an appraising—and possibly slightly hungry—glance at the two thieves.

The thief on the left waved a white flag, looking apprehensively in Kazul's direction, and the other began to shout.

"Ladies and gents... and… magical creatures! We have a business proposition fore ye to hear!"

"They have some kind of warding spell up," Morwen told the others, speaking just loudly enough that I could pick up her words, but too softly for the thieves to hear.

"So I can't just eat the other two and have done with it?" Kazul asked. Morwen smiled slightly, keeping her eyes on the strangers.

"I'm afraid not." She shouted at them, "Let's hear it, then! And make it quick and to the point!"

"Well, ye see, it's like this. We'd caught some story 'bout a prince or suchlike stayin' 'ere. And we thought, there's a load o' reward for two such enterprisin' men such as ourselves, jes' beggin' to be snatched up. If we was to kidnap a prince we could hold 'im for ransom, like."

"Only, ye see," the other man continued, "after the job was done we found ourselves in possession of the wrong person. So unless the girl has some value on the ransom market, we'd like to make ye a trade; this one for the prince... uh, woss'is name?" he turned to his companion.

"Olemer," the other replied.

"Right, Oly Mare, that's the one."

Olemer's eyes widened and he stepped back a couple paces.

"Give us a minute to discuss this, please," Morwen said, receiving a nervous glance from Olemer. He must have honestly thought they were considering just handing him over.

And he wasn't entirely wrong. As soon as they turned toward each other to discuss the options, Daystar burst out, "I'm rather inclined to accept the offer."

"I second that," Brandel added.

"I'm surprised at you, Daystar," Morwen told him reproachfully. "I've come to expect politeness and common sense from you, and right now you are displaying neither. I understand your concern for Shiara, but now is not the time to lose your head." She stood up her straightest and looked expectantly at Daystar until he said quietly, "I apologize."

"Then what should we do?" Brandel asked impatiently.

"It's all very suspicious. They aren't wizards, but they have a warding spell..."

"And who in their right minds wouldn't notice they'd kidnapped a girl until after they got away?"

"Well, obviously we can't assume those two are in their right minds..." I muttered, bursting with impatience. If only I weren't locked in this dratted cupboard I could explain everything!

"We can't attack them, and we can't accept the exchange. Without Olemer, this whole quest is pointless. I suppose we'll have to rescue Shiara later; tonight would be best."

"I can set a tracker on them so we can find them easily whenever we need to," Brandel offered.

"That would be perfect. And Daystar, you won't do anything stupid, will you?"

He smiled, or possibly grimaced, at Morwen before answering, "I can wait until tonight as long as we're certain they won't do anything to her before then."

"We'll have to let them think we're still considering the exchange... make them come back tomorrow. They can't harm her if there's a possibility she's valuable. But I wonder… how did they know Olemer was here? Someone from the Manor must have spread the news around." Turning back to the thieves, Morwen asked them, "Who told you about Olemer being here?"

They answered simultaneously.

"None o' yore business!" "The fairy, o' course!"

"Fairy?" demanded Kazul.

"You blithering idiot! The wizard said we wasn't to mention anythink—"

"WIZARD?" A blast of flame accompanied Kazul's outburst.

"Now who's mentionin' things?" Both thieves flinched back as the fireball enveloped their warding spell, but the enchantment held.

"Never mind, you've blown it now! Jes' move!" And they dragged Shiara with them back down the ravine.

"Brandel, the tracking spell!" A tiny sphere of fire popped into being above his cupped hands, and he sent it after the retreating figures with a few whispered words.

"Impressive! You're a fire-witch, I presume? And— my goodness, a dragon! This is all quite fascinating, I must say. You'll have to tell me what could possibly have brought you all here." At the sound of another voice they all spun around, and I noticed for the first time that another figure was now standing on the patch of lawn my window overlooked. He was an old man wearing a weather-beaten brown cloak over an outlandish red suit with a quantity of silver buttons and yellow piping. It was a bit much, really, after everything I'd seen that day.

"You may also be interested in the fact that there is a rather distraught cat eavesdropping on us from that window over there. I don't suppose—"

"Aunt Ophelia, _what_ are you doing up there?"

I took Morwen's snappish question as my cue to complain loudly and demand to be rescued at once. I had a great deal of information to be told and a great hole in my belly to be filled.


	17. In Which We Converse with a Scholar

17. In Which We Converse with a Scholar

Half an hour later, stomachs filled with a quick breakfast, we arranged ourselves comfortably in the library on the various squashy chairs clustered around a large wooden table. The dusty light of a nearby window settled upon the mess of books, papers, and quills almost completely concealing the dark surface.

"So… who exactly are you, then?" Daystar enquired of the new arrival.

"My name is Varonyr," he said with a flourish and bow, mostly directed toward Kazul. He obviously knew enough about dragons to make sure to be extremely polite.

"You're Varonyr?" I had expected someone a bit more... scholarly.

"You've heard of me? I must admit, I'm surprised; I realize some of my work is unique, but I didn't think it was so widely publicized—"

"Actually we've been waiting for you. We're looking for the Royal Stick."

"Really? Fascinating coincidence! For that is the very thing I have brought back from my latest travels!" Olemer jumped at this statement, and the rest of us exchanged startled, but hopeful glances.

"But before I bring it out I think you should tell me why you need the Stick and how you knew I would be the person to ask," Varonyr suggested. And so we filled him in on everything that had happened since we decided to begin our quest. He was very excited about the whole tale, interrupting frequently to ask apparently irrelevant questions as he paced energetically around the room.

Finally we concluded with that day's encounter with the thieves and their connection with the wizards.

"Absolutely fascinating! I daresay all this is somehow connected to why the wizards have been after me… but enough talk for now. I think it's high time we try the thing out!"

"No, wait. Explain about the wizards. Harol mentioned something, but he seemed fuzzy on the details." Daystar interrupted. Olemer, who had started to lean across the table in anticipation, sighed and slumped back in his chair.

"Yes, the wizards have been a tricky business; very nosy lot, they are. It's thanks to them I had to leave my hut—and a great deal of my work—behind and hide out here."

"Then that hut on the plain is yours?"

"The one in the middle of nowhere? It is indeed, or was. Nice sort of place to get a lot of thinking done in, though the roof's rather leaky. Unfortunately it would be hard to go back now and still maintain the pretense that I'm dead."

"Well, I'm afraid it would be hard anyway; the whole place burned down a few days ago," Morwen broke the news bluntly. "Now would you please explain why you feel you have to maintain the pretense that you're dead?"

"Oh dear, did it really? Then it's a good thing I decided to bring that book on the Lost City of Agramar with me; fascinating but awfully large, not the sort of thing one wants to haul around when you're escaping from death—" he broke off upon noticing Morwen's impatient expression and coughed nervously.

"Well, anyway, carrying on. You see, about a year ago I found out from a friend of mine that some funny folk were after me because of my work concerning the Royal Stick. He didn't know they were wizards, but I recognized the description. He said a couple men with staffs and beards came into his shop—he sells a variety of scholarly publications—asking for anything about the Royal Stick. He showed them a few of my works and they started questioning him about who I was, where I lived, and so forth. Fortunately for me he claimed he didn't know and sent someone to warn me. Otherwise I'd never have had time to set up a passable mock death. As it was, I just managed to get the bones laid out, smear them with some poison from a venomous sheep, wreck the house a bit, grab my most important papers, and run. I had to leave most of my stuff or it would have looked suspicious."

"And poison from a venomous sheep isn't suspicious?" Brandel asked sarcastically. "What on earth is a venomous sheep?"

Olemer answered matter-of-factly, "Oh, they're quite common in some parts of the plains. It's not unusual for them to attack people. But… where did you get the bones?" he asked, sounding as if he were afraid to find out.

"Skeleton for anatomical study, of course. No scholarly residence would be complete without one. But, to finish my story, if I may?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "I did not yet know whether they were after my life or my research, so I thought it would be prudent to eavesdrop as they discovered my supposed demise. I was hiding on the roof while they investigated, having managed to find out my place of residence. I distinctly heard one of them say, 'Well, our job's taken care of for us. He won't be helping anyone now.' I gather, both from this statement and what you have just told me, that their purpose was indeed to kill me, likely to prevent me from doing exactly what I shall do now."

And without further ado, he drew a rather shabby bundle out from under his cloak and set it down on the table with an elaborate flourish. "Behold, the Royal Stick itself!"

We stared at it.

"Well, go on, Olemer, or should I say, Your Highness, it's yours!"

Olemer reached out and started unwrapping the bundle carefully, as if expecting it to explode at any moment.

"What exactly is it supposed to do?" Daystar enquired.

"That I'm not sure about... but according to my research, when the Stick is in the hands of the true heir, something quite unmistakable will occur. Possibly it will glow, or emit sparks; maybe even sing! Who knows? But if all goes well we should find out in a second."

The last fold of cloth was pulled off the Stick, revealing a smooth, dark wooden rod about six inches long. Olemer picked it up.

Every one of us watched with bated breath and great anticipation as…

…nothing happened.

Olemer, his expression betraying his stunned disbelief, voiced the question—one of the questions—on all of our minds: "Does this mean I'm not the rightful king?"

"No, no…" Varonyr's impatient muttering interrupted the looks of dismay that had begun to pass around the room.

"Well how do you know?" Morwen snapped when the scholar didn't continue.

"The decoy was a decoy for the decoy," he replied, "I should have realized that instead of wasting a trip… But there's one more place to check. If I reread the ancient texts… You see, the word _malna_ can be alternately translated as—"

"Where?" Brandel demanded, getting right to the point.

"I don't know yet, I just know there's one more place to check."

A collective sigh of exasperation rose from the company, and Olemer buried his face in his hands.

"But," Varonyr held up his hand, "given time, I'm sure I can figure it out; it's simply a matter of first transcribing the texts into—"

"How long?"

Sounding slightly flustered at the constant interruptions, he answered, "Oh, only a day or two for the translation itself, I should think. But place names have changed a great deal over time; it may take a while to determine the modern appellation—"

"Best get started, then," Morwen instructed. "We don't have a lot of options."

While Varonyr hurriedly gathered his papers and books to begin his task, Morwen, accompanied by myself, sought out the guard to see if he had noticed anything concerning the events of the previous night. He had some interesting tidbits to share.

"The only thing unusual I noticed was the fairy. Though, really, unusual isn't the right word; she's been hanging around me for the past few days, so it wasn't any surprise to see her last night. She tried to convince me to wander off with her. She seemed very put out when I told her I had to continue my rounds, and she flew off in a huff. It was a couple hours before anything else happened, but then I saw some sparks and heard something crashing through the brush a little ways off, and I went to investigate. Not surprisingly, I didn't find anything. Nothing happened the rest of the night, but this morning your friend was gone. I'm guessing the whole time the fairy was trying to get me away so the kidnappers could get in and out. Not that they needed anything that elaborate; it's kind of hard for one guard to effectively patrol the whole building. That's what the invisibility barrier is supposed to be for."

"The little traitor!" I burst out. "I wouldn't be surprised if she had something to do with the thieves picking the wrong window, too. She was hardly on good terms with Shiara."

"You're probably right. If you see her again you have my permission to eat her," Morwen graciously replied.

…

The rest of the day passed in suspenseful boredom. Being deficient in knowledge of obscure ancient dialects, we could do little to help Varonyr, and we had to wait for the cover of darkness before attempting to rescue Shiara.

"Sir" Harol subjected us to a lengthy and grandiloquent apology around midday, assuring us that he was shocked beyond belief that such events could have occurred at his own magnificent oasis of refuge. I'm betting that he spent the entire morning composing it and staying out of the way of any real form of help.

Lotis had made herself scarce, which was probably very wise.

The afternoon wore on. Having failed to fall asleep (which shows you how tense the atmosphere was) I watched through slitted eyes as Kazul sharpened her claws, Brandel shot sparks at the ceiling, Morwen calmly read a volume on rare herbs, and Daystar gazed blankly out a window facing north. Olemer kept tossing a pen in the air but couldn't manage to catch it. The repetitive clatter it made as it hit the floor was getting on my nerves.

Time passed. The sun sank. It was time to leave.

—

A/N—The idea of venomous sheep is not my own, much as I'd like to take credit for it. I found it in a book of Celtic legends once and have been intrigued ever since.


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